Fogging up the Future
by minnymcgoggles
Summary: A steamy vision of the future in Divination class turns an old friendship upside-down. With the Battle of Hogwarts mere months away, an oblivious Zacharias Smith and an in-denial Susan Bones attempt to 'deal' (his words, not hers, but apt).


I first wrote this a one-sided prompt but I've decided it needed to be expanded bc these two are adorable.

Please leave comments/suggestions!

* * *

Zacharias bent over the crystal ball, reminding himself for the hundredth time that he would quit after the O.W.L. He'd never seen as much as tomorrow's breakfast in Divination class and today was mentally prepared for an hour of subtly inspecting his chin hairs in the orb's reflection.

His vision flickered—the glass wavered—and time shifted, years and many failed relationships older than himself.

...

Zacharias didn't know what to say.

He never did; and now that it mattered, the words wouldn't come. Stuck in his gut like meatloaf, the same as when he was sixteen and trying to hide a boner from Sprout. Only this, now, felt infinity more important than Dunbar's bra strap and the humid greenhouse air. The scene came into focus.

"Susan…" but the name disintegrates before it reaches her, sitting on the plush Bones family sofa, her posture drooping after an afternoon of straight-backed smiles to her relatives and his tight-lipped mother.

His mother detested Easter. She detested all holidays, but Easter, with its baby bunnies and children running after eggs, gave her _stomach pains_. His mother's eyes ran Susan up and down on her arrival, screaming '_Divorcee_', before she pushed past her toward the drinks trolley._ Mother_, he'd called after her, but not before he noticed the glisten in her Susan's eye. Had she been crying?

The children yelled, delighted, on the closely clipped lawn outside the impressive bay window. Zacharias ignored the egg hunt. For the first time in centuries, they were alone.

What could he say? He couldn't pretend to empathize. Love came easy in his teens, a word he hijacked and used against girls, a word that meant 'I want'. A greedy, convenient word at odds with the gentle laugh lines on Susan's face. And he saw her _love_ love for this ex-husband of hers, with the name Zacharias pretended to forget. He thought he understood now and thirty-some odd years in, at least the smallest part of this strange word.

Zacharias understood enough to miss the wedding, claiming (publicly) a case of dragonpox and (to Susan) a case of The-Groom's-Sister-Looks-At-Me-Like-I-Have-An-Eclair-In-My-Trousers and (to no one) a case of Your-Family-Never-Forgave-Me.

The night she brought her daughter into the world Zacharias's tongue swelled with an influx of cheap brandy, and he vomited his drunkenness into a London sewer. Didn't stop him from chatting up the barmaid. Not that she took any notice of the slew of nonsensical one-liners, but he remembered it with all kinds of class. A classy move for a suave bastard. Bachelor. Zacharias Smith, that was him, never without a buxom bombshell on his arm—

"Susan?"

She raised a hand to her cheek. He hadn't seen her cry since they were five or less, and the sight her now, _her_, the epitome of poise, with her guard broken: he shrank.

What could he say? _I should have been there_—or—_I should have known_—or—_Right bastard_—or—_Don't worry_—didn't cover it.

Like it or not, fear it or not, he loved this proud, determined Susan Bones. And he didn't know what to say. She managed to look at him, briefly, before her hands began to fiddle with her pocketbook, and then glanced out the window, where her son and daughter pocketed plastic eggs, her eldest with arms outspread for balance, walking along a protruding tree root.

Something in him, something very Smith and very Zacharias, liked the idea of being there for Susan's children. They wouldn't have his urges. His fears of the future, his exhibitionism, or his—he hurried over this last thought, his _cowardice_.

"Susan," and this time Zacharias gripped his oldest friend's hand. He didn't think about what to say next.

"I'm sorry."

She bowed her head against his shoulder, unable to help a small smile.

"Then kiss me."

...

Zacharias gave an involuntary jerk and his vision blurred. Eyes dry after staring so intently, he blinked. Susan didn't budge, still staring into their crystal ball. For a moment he worried if she could be in the same vision of the future he'd seen, or if it worked like that at all. It wasn't what he expected: no flying pigs or weird symbols to look up and decode. All as vivid as, well, him sitting next to Susan as they were right now. Already the finer details were slipping away from him, (Did she have two children or three?).

But an undeniable flush crossed over his face at the memory of where her kiss led-and if he could guess the cause of the small 'o' on Susan's face next to him.

* * *

_-next chapter smutty times and susan's pov stay tuned_


End file.
